Their Little Girl
by SupernaturalRuinedMyLife
Summary: This is the story of Natalie, a little girl who grew up too fast, who lives for her older brothers. Dean and Sam brought her up far more than John could ever claim to, and it shows through Natalie's devotion to them. Tales from the life of the Winchester Little Girl.
1. Natalie Winchester

This is the beginning of a story that has been a _long _time in the making. I don't know how popular the idea will be, but this has been getting far too close to me - seriously, I feel a personal attachment to this story on a level that can't be normal - to not share.

Let me know what you think, if I should keep going or if the entire idea is rubbish!

**I don't own Supernatural, or any publically recognisable characters.**

* * *

_"Take your brother and sister outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now go, Dean, go!"  
"C'mon, Sammy! C'mon! I got you, Tally. S'gonna be okay. It's okay, Tally. It's okay, Sammy."_

Natalie Winchester was the youngest child and only daughter of John and Mary. To hunters, she was known, at her own insistence, as Nat, the girl who had grown up too fast, who wore jeans and sturdy boots and had been comfortable with guns and knives since she was 4. To her brothers, because they had brought her up and she couldn't stop them, she was called Tally, which she hated but endured because she loved her brothers. When Natalie was only a baby, she had been carried out of a burning house by her 9-year-old brother, while her 5-year-old brother was close on his heels.

After that fateful night, she had never stayed in the same town for more than a few months, more familiar with motel rooms than she was with a permanent residence. She had never made proper friends, never having stayed in one place long enough to do so. The flip side to this was that it made her bond with her brothers into something unique and special. They were, quite literally, what she lived for, all that she had. John…well, suffice to say that John never seemed to value Natalie as much as he did Dean and Sam. He didn't seem to think that girls were as trustworthy on the hunt, didn't think that girls were suited to this sort of life.

Nat had been 4 when she first discovered that her father was not, after all, a travelling salesman, and that all the monsters under the bed really existed. John had been out to the bar, instructing Dean and Sam to stay behind. Nat had been messing around in the motel, completely used to never having the same room for more than a few nights. She had crawled under one of the beds and her small hands had found a leather-bound book. Insatiable curiosity being one of her main traits, she opened it, and recognized her father's handwriting. Nat had sat on the floor in that room for ages, looking at scary pictures and diagrams in what turned out to be her father's journal. And once she had had enough of wrestling with the unfamiliar words, being unable to make out much more than the simplest words and names, she had put the book back, gone next door to the room she was sharing with Dean and Sam and demanded to know what was going on. Her older brothers, now aged 13 and 9, had shared a look, before sitting down on one of the beds and explaining everything. "The first thing you should know, Tally," Dean had said, twisting one hand into her curls, "is that Dad is a superhero."

Then had followed the long explanation. Dean and Sam contributed equal amounts, leaving nothing out. Their mother's murder, what John and Dean hunted and what Sam would start hunting very soon, why it was the family business. Everything. And afterwards, when she was sitting quietly on the floor and trying to understand everything, Dean calling their father and explaining what had happened. John came through the door five minutes later, a hard look on his face, saying "Tomorrow we start her training. Tally's had her childhood, she needs to grow up now."

Nat had grown up very quickly indeed after that day. For some reason, nothing that she did was ever good enough for John. Yes, he was hard on Dean and Sam, but that was nothing compared to how he treated Nat. Dean and Sam trained her too, except when they stopped at Uncle Bobby's. The first time that they had visited Bobby after she had realised the truth, he had been horrified to see the silver dagger that was hanging at her waist. That had been the time that she heard Uncle Bobby get the angriest at her father ever. There had been a lot of shouting, and then Bobby had imposed a strict no-training rule at his house, meaning that none of the Winchester children could practise anything to do with fighting the supernatural and paranormal whilst at his house.

In the blur of her early childhood, only a few memories stuck out, and they were so very different to the normal memories of a little girl. John coming into a motel room one night with his face scratched up and blood seeping out from under his shirt, Dean immediately demanding that she go to the other room. The first time that she had seen Dean and Sam in action, the big brothers that she knew so well fighting each other, at an age too young to realise that they were not angry at each other, but were merely practising. She had cried that night, thinking that they had fallen out, and it had only been when Sam had woken up and coaxed out of her what was wrong that he had laughed and told her not to be silly, that of course he and Dean hadn't fallen out. Long, long car rides, sitting in the back seat of the Impala with either Dean or Sam, either fiddling with a gun or knife or with a doll. She had had one doll, a very small one called Dolly that had red curly hair just like hers and a patchwork dress. Nat had gotten rid of Dolly when she was 7, because John had said that dolls were not acceptable for hunters. One spectacular argument between John and Sam over Nat losing her childhood too fast which had her in the other room curled up in the corner. Not crying, because John had taught her very early on that hunters never cried, but shaking slightly and staring at the floor, arms wrapped around her knees.

After the age of 7, she could remember more and in more detail. Could remember constantly asking when she would be allowed on a hunt, always getting shot down by her father. Not once could Nat remember John giving her any signs of affection. He was much closer to a drill-sergeant than a father, although she never said that. Dean and Sam, the two people that she loved above all others. She would do anything for her De and her Sammy, and that included all of the supernatural options. She could remember lying in the Impala with her head on Sam's lap as Dean drove, his fingers fiddling with her long curly hair that was the exact shade of flames. Dean letting her sit on his lap and have a go at steering the Impala when they had a particularly long, straight and deserted stretch of road. Their bond was something different, something unique and special. They were all each other had.

* * *

So, that was an introduction to Natalie, who I honestly feel like I know as a friend now, I've been developing her in my mind so much. It's strange but I pretty much know her life story. Has anyone seen Matilda The Musical? If so, then a line from 'Quiet' describes this very well - a story delivered to me fully written :)

Please review? I don't know if the idea is honestly a good one or not :/


	2. Home With Sammy

So, this chapter is a short one, about what happens when John and Dean go hunting. Sam's left with Natalie. Just a short one before I get the next one up, when the first proper storyline will begin. Enjoy!  
**I don't own Supernatural or any publically recognisable characters.**

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"You know the rules, Sam. Salt lines, shut all the blinds, don't answer the phone unless I ring once then call back, call Pastor Jim if there's an emergency, his number's saved into the phone, and always..."

"Look after Tally."

"Yes. I'll be back in a week." John strode out of the door, bag over his shoulder, and seconds later the two youngest Winchester siblings could hear the familiar roar of the Impala's engine. As soon as it had faded into the distance, Sam pulled down all the blinds and set the salt lines, before flopping down on the sofa and picking up his book. Natalie had scrunched herself into the corner of the room and was flicking a blade between her fingers, the silver catching the light in an almost hypnotic manner. After a few minutes, Sam looked up and glanced over at her. The frustration and disappointment was written all over her face.

"Hey, Tally, C'mere." He gestured to the space next to him. Slowly, Natalie uncurled herself from the corner and walked over to the sofa. As soon as she got within reaching distance, Sam pulled her down so that she was lying on top of him. The sad look had gone from her face, replaced with giggles as she struggled to get upright again. The fast transition made Sam laugh himself, however annoyed he felt that he had been told to stay behind and babysit Tally. It was so easy to cheer her up. "No sulking, remember? Sam's Number 1 Rule When Dad and Dean Go Hunting?" Natalie laughed again, squirming so that she was lying half on the sofa, with her head pillowed on Sam's chest.

"Sorry, Sammy. No sulking." She absentmindedly reached one hand up and poked Sam's nose. "Got your nose!" she giggled again.

"Nah, you're just teasing me," Sam said. He glanced at his watch. "And you, missy, have half an hour before you need to be in bed, so I suggest that you go and get ready." Natalie pulled the wrist with the watch over her face and checked for herself.

"Dammit," she sighed, provoking a quick reminder form Sam about language. "You and Dean and Dad say it, though."

"Yeah, but you're too little. Bad luck. Go get ready for bed." Shoving her gently off his chest, Sam relaxed backwards and watched her as she ran out of the room towards the bedroom that she was sharing with him. He was slightly resentful that, once again, he had been left behind, where Dean had been hunting two years younger than the 12 he was now, but at the same time, he was glad for the extra time he would get for studying - mid-terms were coming up and he really wanted to do well in them, taking a week off school wouldn't be too good for that. And he liked spending time with Natalie.

* * *

"What do you want for dinner, Tally?" Sam asked, looking through the cupboards. "The options are pasta, pasta, pasta or pasta." Natalie appeared to think about this very seriously.

"Can I have pasta please, Sammy?" she asked, grin breaking across her face.

"I thought you'd say that," Sam replied, pulling a packet of pasta off the shelf and pouring some into a pan. "How did I know?"

"Cos you're clever," Natalie laughed. "Sammy, will you help me with my maths homework? I don't understand, it's too difficult."

"Sure, after dinner, Tally Bear. Now..." he searched through the cupboards, and triumphantly held up a tin of tomato sauce. "Pasta and tomato sauce coming up!"

* * *

"Natalie, where's your Dad this week?" Natalie looked up at the teacher with a trademark 'Who, me?' look that was guaranteed to melt hearts. She had learnt it long ago and often used it to her advantage when there were awkward questions. "I haven't seen him all week, is he away?"

"No, ma'am," Natalie responded. She knew that it was okay to say this because Dad and Dean had, in fact, come back the previous night, stumbling through the door after midnight and looking as though they hadn't slept for the whole time they'd been away. "Dad hasn't been very well, so Sammy's been getting me." One thing that Natalie had learnt very early on from her eldest brother was lying. She was an expert.

"Oh, I do hope he's alright?"

"Much better now, thank you. He might even come and get me today." The teacher nodded and walked away, doubts calmed. She had been worried when, on Monday, no adult had turned up to pick up Natalie, but an 12 year old who she knew to be in the adjoining high school. When the arrangement had continued all week, she had began to worry that the Dad and older brother had gone away somewhere, leaving the two young kids - but they had just been a bit ill.

Natalie smiled to herself as the teacher walked away. Sometimes it was just too easy to trick teachers, the seven-year-old thought as she returned to her sums. Dean had taught her about the lies that people wanted to believe.


	3. Home With De

As requested, here is a day of Natalie and Dean being adorable siblings.

**I don't own Supernatural.**

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"Make sure you clean the guns. We're doing target practise once I'm back."

"Yes, sir."

"Sam, you're to check in every two hours."

"Yes, Dad."

"Natalie, help Dean, then homework."

"Okay, Dad."

"I'll be back tomorrow evening." John Winchester nodded once before grabbing his bag off the floor by the door and leaving the motel room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Once all three of them had heard the familiar rumble of the truck's engine fade into the distance, Sam grinned at Dean and ran out of the room into the bedroom. Seconds later he was back, struggling to pull his jacket on, and sliding his mobile phone into his pocket.

"Every two hours, Sammy," Dean reminded him, walking over to the kitchenette and pulling a chocolate bar out of the fridge, breaking it in half and chucking the half that had turned up slightly smaller to Natalie, who caught it and dived over the sofa arm, chewing happily.

"Sure, sure. I'll be back by dinner, is that okay?" Dean nodded and Sam, with a quick laugh of elation, sprinted out of the door, accidentally slamming it behind him.

"What's so exciting about a day in the library, that's what I want to know," Dean mumbled to himself, walking over to the sofa, casually shoving Natalie off it and lying down with his feet propped up on one arm. Seconds later he was assaulted by Natalie throwing herself on top of him, giggling and poking his stomach.

"Don't push me off, Deanie," she said, pushing her bottom lip out in her _I'm too cute for you to do anything except agree with me _look. "Wanna cuddle."

"Urgh, Tally, you know I don't do cuddles," Dean groaned, at the same time hooking his hands under her arms and pulling her close. Natalie happily snuggled into a little ball, lying in Dean's arms. He secretly loved this, lying on the sofa with his little sister tucked up into his side like she was made to fit there, knowing that, for now, she was perfectly happy and safe, but he wouldn't ever admit it. Far too close to a chick flick moment for his liking.

They lay there for a few minutes in a comfortable silence, Dean fiddling with the shock of frizzy red hair that was tangled and messy across his chest. Then Dean reached over his head for the remote - fumbling around on the table that he couldn't see, he accidentally knocked his phone and a mug onto the floor, which thankfully didn't break - and turned the television on. He flipped through channels for a while, Natalie eventually becoming bored and pushing herself up before she darted out of the room, returning only seconds later with her hands clutching a red exercise book that she thrust into Dean's face.

"Help me," she demanded, barely able to hold back the smile that was fighting it's way onto her face.

"Later, princess," Dean replied, shoving her aside so that he could see the television, where he had finally settled on a program that looked mildly interesting.

"_Nowwww," _Natalie giggled, scrambling onto the sofa and sitting on Dean's chest. "Now, now, now!" She bounced a little with each word, making the air whoosh out of Dean's lungs. He groaned dramatically and stood up, throwing her over his shoulder as he did.

"Sonuvabitch," he said, striding towards the table and kicking a chair out from underneath it, before lowering Natalie into it as though she was made of glass. "How much of this stuff," he gestured to the book in a general manner, "do you have?"

"Not much," Natalie was now grinning uncontrollably as she flicked through the book until she found her page. Once that was done, she pulled a pencil out from her jumper pocket, put it on the book and thrust them both over to Dean.

They had...an arrangement, which would probably make Sam start talking about how important school was and Dad say that it was probably best if Natalie did her own homework. But neither of them particularly cared for schoolwork, Dean because he just couldn't be bothered to concentrate on something so irrelevant for so long and Natalie because the letters and numbers had a disconcerting way of floating all around the page, which made sums and reading work tiresome and difficult. So, whenever they had a day to themselves, Dean would give Natalie the answers to her simple maths homework and scan the part of the book she was meant to be reading before giving her a brief summary so that she knew what had happened in the story, before the pair of them gave the homework up as a bad job and started doing other stuff instead.

Yeah, Sam and Dad probably wouldn't be too pleased. But they didn't know, and it left a lot of time free to do more interesting things.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Natalie had shoved the book back into her schoolbag unceremoniously and both of them were sitting at the table in the kitchen cleaning the guns. Each had a gun in their hands in different stages of assemblement.

"...and then we realised that it wasn't a spirit at all, it was a Bloody Mary, and so we had to find someone..." Dean was recounting tales of hunts in detail that would have horrified any normal parents with the detail but which Natalie had seen many times first hand. Once his story had finished - with Dean heroically killing the monster and saving everyone, just like they always ended, Natalie had been certain for a long time that at least half of these stories were made up and the other half exaggerated - they had a race to see who could take apart and re-assemble a gun in the shortest amount of time. Dean held back, like he always did, so that the races were draws. Natalie couldn't wait for the day when it became a real race.

"Sonuvabitch!" she hissed when, at the last minute, she dropped the last piece of the gun, meaning that she had to scrabble on the floor while Dean finished his gun. She covered her mouth guiltily with one hand, looking up at Dean, cheeks flushed. She had never quite understood why Dad, Dean and Sam could swear but she couldn't, but the fact remained that if it had been John she swore in front of, she would be looking at seriously unpleasant discipline. Something along the lines of runs and training until she could barely see straight.

Dean just laughed.

Natalie joined in, guilty giggles through the fingers covering her mouth.

"Oh, if Dad was here," Dean said, "lucky it's just me, firefly."

"Sorry, Dee," Natalie squeaked. "Don't tell Dad, please?"

"If you're good," Dean laughed again, making an evil face. "If you do everything I tell you, I won't tell Dad." Natalie nodded cautiously, aware that she was walking into one of Dean's traps. "If you..." Dean scratched his head, clearly trying to thin of a dare. "You know what, I can't be bothered. You get away with it." Laughing, Natalie ran to the counter and scrambled onto the surface, before rummaging through the cupboard and throwing sausages and two potatoes at Dean. Luckily the sausages were still in the packet, but each potato bounced off Dean's chest and landed on the table. He just caught them before they rolled onto the floor.

"Lunch!" Natalie announced, shutting the cupboard and climbing down again, before grabbing a fork and pricking the potatoes and shoving the in the oven and pushing Dean into the kitchen to make sausages.

"Firefly, it's only 12," Dean managed to get out, but Natalie drowned him out.

"But I'm hhhuuuuunnnnnnnggggggggrrrrrrrryyyyyyyy Deeeeeeeeeeeeee, wwwwwwaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnaaaaaaaaa eeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaatttttttt," she moaned, not even bothering to keep the cheeky smile off her face.

"Don't know why I let you do this," Dean grumbled to himself with the air of elder siblings all over the world when a little sibling gets their way again. Natalie was milking it and she knew it, because she knew that Dean wasn't like Dad and would know that she wasn't really behaving like a spoilt brat, but just pretending to, to annoy him. "Fine, princess. You get to have lunch now if you get everything else out." Natalie agreed gleefully before pulling out two plates and glasses out, along with cutlery.

* * *

Dean and Natalie had finished eating and Natalie was doing the dishes as a thank-you for the early lunch when the house phone rang. Once, and then there was silence again. Dean jumped up from the sofa, turned the television onto silent and caught up the phone just as it began to ring again. "Dad," he said, walking back over and flopping onto the sofa.

"Dean. I'm on my way back. Turns out the hunt wasn't a hunt, just some stupid-ass kids who thought it would be a good laugh, they'd told the police everything before I'd even got there."

"Okay. When'll you get here?"

"Well, I pretty much turned straight around, so I'd say another four hours."

"Got it. You want me to get Sammy back?"

"Good idea. We're gonna go out to that field I found and do some target practise. Is Natalie behaving?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Well, I'll see you, son."

"See you Dad." Dean rang off and turned his head, well aware that Natalie had come in when Dad had rung. "Bad news, firefly," he said, tossing the phone carelessly onto the table. "Dad's on his way home." Personally, Dean was glad that their Dad was coming back, but for Natalie's sake he didn't. He didn't get why and never had, but John was a lot harder on Natalie than he was on Dean and Sam, meaning that he never got to see the side of her that Dean and Sam often did - the fun-loving 7-year-old instead of the trained and experienced hunter. It was almost worrying how different Natalie was when she was with Dean and Sam to how she was when John was around as well, and how quickly she could snap between the two.

But Dean wasn't going to think about that. They had four more hours.


	4. Not Feeling So Good

Here's the next chapter! Sorry it took a while to get up, and that it's a bit shorter. But please review anyway!  
**I don't own Supernatural.**

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"Dean..." Natalie rolled over and pressed herself closer to her big brother, sleeping right next to her and protecting her from the dark. It was too _hot, _and there were _things _in the dark, nasty things that were going to come and get her, and she needed to wake Dean up so that he knew, knew that the room was _far _too hot but _freezing _at the same time and that Natalie had been trying for _ages _but couldn't sleep because of the things in the dark...

"Wassamatter Tally?" Dean mumbled, surfacing slowly from sleep. "Y'ok?"

"Dean," Natalie's voice was little more than a whimper this time, weakly burying her head in Dean's shoulder and shaking with cold and hot and everything so _strange _and _hurting..._

Dean snapped awake and slowly sat up. "Whoa, Tally, you're like a freaking furnace," he said, touching her shoulder and then her forehead. "You okay, little girl?"

"No," Natalie whimpered, weakly tossing over and moaning. "De, _hurts, monsters, _De, help..."

"Monsters?" Dean's hand automatically went out to the gun on the bedside table. "Where, Tal? Where are the monsters?"

"Everywhere, De, help, hurts," and Dean was beginning to cotton on, dropping the gun back down and lying gently next to his little sister. Putting out a cautious hand he again felt her forehead. Tally was burning up, scaring herself, shaking.

"Aw, princess, you not well?" Dean asked, gently sorting out the twisted and sweaty sheets on the bed so that they were lying straight, before pushing Natalie's curls off her neck. "There we go, firefly. No school for you today."

"De, _monsters..." _Tally was not shutting up about the monsters, but Dean was afraid that the main light would be too much - compromising, he covered the bedside lamp in a thin shirt that was lying nearby and turned that on. The room was illuminated in a soft glow.

"See, Tally? No monsters." Dean lay back down next to Tally and brushed his fingers through her hair, the familiar and soothing gesture meaning that Tally relaxed into his hand. "And seriously, I'm here, you know that all the monsters are far too scared of me to come anywhere near you," he joked. It was a bad sign that Natalie just gave one weak giggle, instead of making a return comment or jabbing him in the ribs. "You gonna tell me where it hurts, princess?" Dean said, curling so that his body was arranged protectively around Natalie's.

"M'tummy," Natalie said. "M'head, _hurts, _De..."

"Okay, I gotcha baby," Dean said, pressing one hand on Natalie's forehead in a way that always made her relax when she wasn't well. Sure enough, he soon felt the soft weight of her head in his hand. "There we go. Now you stay here for just one minute, and then I'll be back and I'll make you feel better."

Dean never knew how to express this without sounding horrid, but there was something he loved about the times Natalie was ill, when he got past the worry and stress that she was in pain. Now that she was 7 and 'a big girl', Natalie hadn't let him just look after her in a long time, and he missed it. Loved the obvious trust in the green eyes, so like his own, when Dean pressed a cool cloth to her forehead, and the resulting little pressure that told him that she'd let all the muscles in her neck go and was just trusting him. Loved the way she let him gently move her into a more comfy position so that she could take little sips of the water that he'd poured the contents of one Tylenol into. Loved the way that she settled back against him when she was done, shutting her eyes and curling into his side in a way that made him feel so special and trusted.

* * *

The next morning it was obvious. Natalie wasn't going to school that day.

Instead, come lunchtime, she was lying on the sofa with her head in Dean's lap, covered with a thin blanket as some random TV show played.

Dean's fingers were tangling her hair horribly as he fiddled with it absentmindedly.

The 16-year-old looked down at the 7-year-old with all the love and protection that a parent usually provided.

But Natalie's Dad didn't really care for this side of things.

Dean and Sam were far more parents to Natalie that John had ever been.


End file.
